


Hammered Silver

by theashemarie



Series: Oneshot Canyon [5]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Getting Together, Kissing, Lesbians, Non-Chronological, Rating for Cursing, Rings, Slight Octo Expansion spoilers, Switching tenses, Will I ever stop writing proposal fics? No, pov pearl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theashemarie/pseuds/theashemarie
Summary: "It was normal these days—Marina slipped Pearl's rings off and fiddled with them, slipped them onto her pinkies or spun them between her hands on the table, tapped them on any available surface, or just stared at them, turning them over and over."A love story, marked by one simple action: Marina takes Pearl's rings right off her fingers and Pearl lets her.[In-Canon, Non-Chronological]
Relationships: Marina/Pearl (Splatoon)
Series: Oneshot Canyon [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560196
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	Hammered Silver

**Author's Note:**

> inb4 I get the inevitable comment about it: All tense switches are intentional. This oneshot's scenes are not chronological on purpose.

Marina is tapping her finger on the table in time with the faded music, and Pearl can’t help but watch her over the top of her menu. The music is being piped in from some well-hidden speakers, is one of their songs even, but Pearl isn’t really listening, not really. Instead, she only hears the sharp strike of Marina’s ring on the hard tabletop—well, actually, it’s Pearl’s ring, slipped from her finger by Marina’s sly hands as they walk down the sidewalk, jumping from one pool of streetlight to another—and watches as the hammered silver catches the light, reflects it back, dull and muted. It makes something inside her vibrate, like a bunch of excited atoms, and she sees Marina smile at her; she knows she’s being distracting, and Pearl feels a bobbing foot brush against her leg under the table, which splits her attention even more.

There are eyes on them, but when aren’t there these days. Their silhouettes cut too familiar in a crowd, especially when they’re together, and when they’re apart they drew attention for different reasons—Pearl has been habituated to being watched, by virtue of her family, and Marina is tall and beautiful; not to mention she has one of those gentle faces that magnetizes notice. It’s normal to be out and to be stared at, to have phone cameras pointed at them, to be approached during their private dinner and asked for an autograph. That’s why they don’t do this often anymore, not like they used to, before they made it big—go out to dinner, or lunch—and usually reserve it for early mornings like this, when the waffle and pancake places are just stretching into their prime, just before the sun pulls its heavy body into the sky. The restaurants are mostly empty, save for red eye workers just off their shift or early birds heading in.

They’re used to the eyes, but Pearl hasn’t slept yet so she swears she can _feel_ them, like tiny, stinging molecules, bouncing off her skin. And Marina is tapping her (Pearl’s) ring against the table and bouncing her foot to Nasty Majesty’s 4/4 time and Pearl can feel that too, right behind her eyes, and that’s a lot for her to handle just now. She can’t get her brain around the words on the menu and she has no idea what she orders when the server moseyes up with her little pad. Menus gone then, Pearl can only watch Marina as she taps, and taps more, and taps and taps.

Eventually, she moves, as if guided by a puppeteer, and places her hand over Marina’s excited finger. “That’s my ring,” she hears her own voice say.

Marina smiles at her. It’s small, but Pearl is shocked into silence. Eventually, she manages to smile back.

“It is,” Marina answers, “but I’m borrowing it.”

Pearl squints at her. “You always take it from me.”

Marina shrugs. “It’s pretty—and listen to the sound it makes.” She strikes it against the table again, as evidence. “Perfect little twang.”

Pearl leans back again, crosses her arms in front of her chest, and winces when the skin of her arms brushes the wrong way against itself. “We should get you one, then.”

Marina starts her tapping again, this time in a rhythm that Pearl can’t place. “Why? I have yours.”

“Because that one’s mine.”

Marina merely grins at her, and Pearl feels that too. But, this time, it’s pleasant, like the soft light of the sun through translucent glass.

+++

Years ago, Pearl lead a curious octoling through Inkopolis for the first time. Pearl didn’t know much about her new friend, just name and age, mimed out by long, pointed fingers as they treaded the grass of Mount Nantai under their feet, but she had a good feeling. Pearl was nineteen, headstrong, and stupid, but she trusted this girl, trusted her without reason, but there was something about the way she rushed toward Pearl there on the mountain with only a couple words of Inkling on her tongue— _you, me, band_ —and forced a battered cassette player into Pearl’s hands with an insistence that Pearl could only admire now, a few days out.

She brought Marina home, offered her a room, offered her a second room when Marina expressed discontent with how big it was, offered her a _third_ room when even the second was too large, and borrowed her the largest sweatshirt and leggings she owned. Even then, the leggings landed at mid-calf and the sweatshirt, while long enough where it counted, had sleeves that were clearly too short. Marina had them pushed up above her elbows.

(Years from then, Pearl would figure out the big secret, would land in their bed on her back, with Marina pressing kisses to her neck, would stare up at the ceiling and would breathe out, as it all came to her, as her brain clicked into place, as Marina’s hair brushed against the underside of her jaw. She would breathe out and the world would shift, as Marina’s hands landed on either side of her face and she hovered over Pearl, staring down at her with something like love in her eyes. And Pearl would breathe, and stare up at her, and she would think to herself— _Octoling_...

Months from that breath, she would watch Marina, hunched over her phone, reading the chat Pearl had with Cuttlefish, and she would look at Pearl with those same eyes, except this time there would be only fear. And Pearl would look back at her, spinning her—Marina’s—ring around her right pointer finger, over and over, trying to solve the cipher of what she had to say, spinning through the options, the mitigations, the damage control. In the end, she would decide that words weren’t good enough, and she would simply stand, pad over, and wrap her arms around Marina’s tense, ramrod body. “I already knew,” was the only thing she would say, right into Marina’s hairline. And Marina would relax, and would sob, and would apologize.

And Pearl would press the ring into Marina’s palm.)

Just then, on this first outing, Pearl was nineteen and Marina was sixteen and they were both too young to know what was to come, what secrets would reveal themselves, what success they would see, how their lives would unfold. In this moment, they were two friends, two little parcels of potential energy, stepping out into the world together for the first time. Pearl was still grimy from bed, but determined to get Marina some better clothes, and Marina was still unfamiliar with the sun; she squinted at everything, including Pearl, and pointed at everything else, asking for the Inkling words for _streetlight, crosswalk, mailbox, jellyfish, vending machine, shop, food truck, sidewalk, planter_. She remembered every word, never had to have them repeated.

And, as they waited at a light, Marina shaded her face with her hand and stared up at Inkopolis Tower and Booyah Base and her smile was so big and brilliant that Pearl felt it lift her own cheeks, and suddenly she was smiling too.

They took the crosswalk together, and Marina grabbed tight to Pearl’s hand because she was still unsure of the street crossings, especially one as big as this one, and, when they got across, Marina let go, sheepish, but took Pearl’s ring with her, right off her finger.

Pearl didn’t know why, but she didn’t say anything, just watched as Marina slipped it onto her pinky. Later, she saw her spinning it around her finger as Annie and then Moe spoke too quickly for Marina to keep up, and then again as they stared up at Callie and Marie on the big screen, as they threw banter back and forth. After that, they climbed the steps and pressed their faces to the window and waited for Callie and Marie to wave at them. As they stood there, Marina tapped the ring against the glass.

Back at home, weighed down by only two bags of clothes because Marina insisted she didn’t need much, Marina placed the ring back into Pearl’s palm. “Thank you,” she said, and bowed, her hair falling forward to frame her face. Her bobbed haircut was a mirror image of Pearl’s.

Pearl considered being genuine, considered telling her that she could take it anytime if it helped center her, but Marina looked so fragile just then, like any sort of honest emotion would break the small shell of composure she’d built up for this trip into the city, so instead she smiled, bold, unapologetic, and slipped the ring back onto her finger. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Marina deflated, relieved that Pearl didn’t make it a huge thing, and she recognized the banter despite the language barrier. “I will,” she said in return, and turned to riffle through the bags.

+++

The night before their first live broadcast, they sat together on the balcony of Marina’s small apartment. They’d been living apart for over a year now and Pearl missed those old days sometimes (all the time), when Marina lived in one corner of the smallest bedroom of Pearl’s house and they met up in the kitchen in the morning before going their separate ways—Marina to study Inkling and Pearl to play video games or noodle on her guitar—before gathering again to work on Ebb & Flow. Pearl’s childhood home was drafty, old, way too big, and way too over-developed. Every year saw a new project because her father couldn’t leave well enough alone, and she found herself spending more and more time here with Marina in her tiny, warm, one-bedroom apartment with its equally tiny balcony. The balcony was so small that they couldn’t fit two chairs out here, so Pearl sat longways on a towel on the ground, legs under Marina’s seat, feet flat against the opposite wall, while Marina curled up in the thatch chair that she’d thrifted months ago. It was coming apart around the edges and Pearl picked at a pokey piece as Marina stared out at the city.

The balcony light was burned out, so Marina held a large flashlight in her hands, pointed straight up, where the beam was eaten by the universe, one photon at a time. It cast strange shadows on her face and every time Pearl looked up, she didn’t recognize her for a second. It was strange, to see Marina anew again, like she was transported back to that singular moment on Mount Nantai, when she looked up from where she was carving something into a tree with a small pocket knife to see an unfamiliar and peculiarly dressed stranger standing there, hands clasped in front of her as she took in a deep breath to say the broken phrase that would change Pearl’s life.

“What if they don’t like me?” Marina said into the quiet of the night. The flashlight tipped to the side.

Pearl squinted at her, trying to gauge how serious she was, and Marina didn’t so much as flinch, didn’t look, just stared at the city that was about to learn her name, see her face, judge her for the first time. Pearl sighed and leaned forward to rest her crossed arms on Marina’s legs.

“You? Be real, Reena.” Pearl poked at a snagged thread in Marina’s tights. She was wearing a short skirt today, and the flashlight was cradled in it now, like a sling. “They’ll love you. It’s me you gotta worry about.”

Marina placed a hand over Pearl’s. “You? Why?”

Pearl blew a breath out through her lips, causing a small raspberry of a noise. “I just know how people are,” she muttered darkly. “But I don’t let it get me down, y’know? Besides, we worked _hard_ for this! Don’t worry about a buncha losers who don’t matter!”

Marina didn’t say anything for a long pause, just wrapped her fingers around Pearl’s pointer finger and grabbed hold of the ring there. “You’re right.”

Pearl released her fingers, trained to let Marina take her rings as she saw fit. It was normal these days—Marina slipped them off and fiddled with them, slipped them onto her pinkies or spun them between her hands on the table, tapped them on any available surface, or just stared at them, turning them over and over.

This time instead, she merely twisted it around Pearl’s finger, never attempting to remove it. It was a mindless motion, but Pearl felt every nerve stand on end. She watched Marina’s long fingers work the ring in circles, her thumb pressing up and her index pushing down, and she didn’t think she could talk.

“I can’t help but worry.” Marina sighed, but her fingers kept turning. “We’ve worked so hard for this. What if I screw it up? What if they don’t like me and we lose this just as quickly as we got it?”

It took a second for Pearl to compute that, sometime between rotation sixteen and seventeen of her ring, but when she did, she snorted. “Took us three years to get it, like you just said. I doubt we’ll lose it quickly. We’ve _got_ something Mar—everyone’s said so. You and me, we’re an unstoppable team. We got hella chemistry and our music slaps. Just stay chill and it’ll be fine. I’ll be right there next to you. Don’t forget it.”

Marina’s fingers finally stalled. She clutched hard to Pearl’s hand. “I know but—”

“Marina Iida,” Pearl said, suddenly serious. “Look at me.” She waited for Marina to turn her face. Her hair was tied back into a low tail at the nape of her neck, so Pearl was treated to the full unhindered view, and she felt something strike her hard, right between her lungs. Was Marina always this beautiful? Of fucking course she was—but, Pearl didn’t remember _that_ curve of her jaw before, or the way the hollow of her throat dipped in like that, and since when were her shoulders so... So...

_Oh fuck._

“Pearl...” Marina said, causing her throat to flex, and Pearl had to swallow quickly. “I’m looking at you...”

“Right!” Pearl squeaked, then cleared her throat. “Marina... I will _always_ be next to you, okay? I promise. You’ll never be alone, as long as I live. When we’re up on the news tomorrow, just look at _me_. Talk to me. No one else matters.”

Marina smiled then, small, to herself, and Pearl felt her lungs expand, felt her throat widen, felt her mouth open just a touch, as she forgot how to breathe and her body took over. Marina was _so beautiful_. “I... I will,” Marina muttered, and released Pearl’s fingers. The metal of the ring was warm for a long time after.

+++

One Sunday in June, sometime after the Deepsea Metro and the NILS Statue, Pearl stared down at her pale legs and ignored how sticky she felt. Her sun hat—oversized and bright pink—cast shadows on her thighs, but her calves were at the mercy of the sun. Her father’s pool, just beyond the tips of her toes, was calling to her, but she didn’t really feel like dealing with the chlorine today. Plus, Marina was squinting at her from the poolside table, shaded by the umbrella, one strap of her tank top falling off her shoulder, pencil held up to her lips. Her sketchbook was sitting in front of her, innocent, and Pearl could just see the light lines of the sketch.

Marina liked to draw her, but in secret. She never asked Pearl to pose for her, but later she showed off her sketches with a certain smugness, especially when she knew that Pearl had no idea she’d been sketched, and it’s become a sort of game between the two of them. Marina tried to be quiet and secretive about it, while Pearl tried to catch her out. When she succeeded, she pretended she didn’t.

This time though, Marina wasn’t trying to hide. She was sitting at the table and practically staring at Pearl’s profile, scanning her legs where they poked out from her board shorts and tracking up her body, over her toned stomach and crop top. Still, muscle memory had Pearl pretending, and besides, she liked to peek at Marina as she drew—her tongue poked out just there and the curve of her body over the sketchbook was tantalizing in ways that Pearl couldn’t put words to.

They were both sweaty because June was sweltering and humid no matter where you went around the city, but, at least here at her father’s house, there was a breeze and it was quiet, and Marina seemed to finally relax out of her stress when they left the city. She loved it in Inkopolis, but, ultimately, she wasn’t a city girl and seemed to prefer the quiet of the countryside when she could get it. For Pearl, being out here made her twitchy and anxious—it was too quiet and calm, which made her feel like something was always creeping up on her. She liked the city more, with its constant motion and nonstop racket. These days, she needed some kind of noise, any kind of noise, to fall asleep, even as Marina plugged her ears and shoved her face into Pearl’s neck, searching for the quiet she desperately craved.

When Pearl asked, Marina always mumbled something about quiet domes and quiet barracks—her small room in the barracks was soundproof, and the dome where she grew up was under-populated compared to the others. They kept all the small prodigies in one corner, the better to protect them or some shit, which meant that Marina grew up in quiet.

 _Plus_ , she always added, _I love the sun and the sky._

“Stop looking at me,” Marina ordered as she looked up and then back down, erased a line, swooped it back down. “I’m trying to get your profile.”

“My sweaty, sweaty profile,” Pearl muttered to herself, but did as she was bid. She focused her gaze on the line of conifers at the edge of the property.

She didn’t know how long she sat like that, but Marina went quiet, focused, and soon enough Pearl heard her flip the page and start again. She shifted then, moving her weight off her back, and leaned forward to stretch toward her toes, just to give Marina something new to look at.

Marina caught her breath, and Pearl turned her head, ear almost touching her knee, to see Marina glancing at her. Gone was the artistic neutrality—now she was looking at Pearl like Pearl looked at her, with a heat and vigor that made Pearl’s body warm from the inside.

She turned away because she didn’t want to give up the game just yet, and placed her forehead on her knees, showing off the short curve of her back.

“Not fair,” Marina whined. Just there, Pearl heard her put the pencil down.

There was a flash of silver, but Pearl resisted the urge to look, to sit up, half because she liked to torture Marina like this, half because she desperately needed this deep stretch after sitting in one position for so long. Plus, it didn’t surprise her at all that Marina picked up one of her rings from her childhood dresser, where she left them before they came out to the pool.

These days, Marina always had one of Pearl’s rings on her. Usually, things went like this: Pearl got dressed, slipped on her jewelry, including at least one ring, and walked out the door with Marina. Then, on the elevator, or while they waited at a red light on the motorcycle, or in the car (if it was raining), Marina reached for Pearl’s hand and mindlessly slipped one off. It was usually the index finger, because it was the perfect size for Marina’s pinky, and Pearl usually got it back after they tumbled back in the door of the apartment, where Marina would place it into her palm or drop it into the ring dish that Pearl kept on their dresser.

In the meantime, Marina wore it, or played with it, tapping, spinning, twisting. At first, Pearl thought it centered her, especially because she used to only take it when they were in the city, surrounded by people, or when they were in their label’s car on the way to a concert, or about to go live and Marina took it while she waited for Pearl to shakily finish her makeup. But, these days, it was second nature, like Marina didn’t even realize she was doing it until she was fiddling with it in the middle of the studio or the record store or the square. Sometimes, she sent Pearl an apologetic smile; other times, she just focused on the ring and spun it around her finger.

She never took them from the dresser though, only lifted them off Pearl once they were out of the apartment, and Pearl knew that it wasn’t so much the rings that she liked as taking something of Pearl’s to occupy herself with. As far as Pearl was concerned, Marina was welcome to whatever she wanted.

Today though, it struck Pearl that Marina finally did it—she went through the middleman, the dresser, didn’t take it from Pearl herself. Pearl did think it strange that she made it all the way here, clutching to Marina’s back on the motorcycle, and kept all of her jewelry intact, but she figured that maybe Marina was too hot and sweaty for it, or was distracted by something else. Hell, when they stopped at a light and waited for traffic, Marina with her feet down to hold the bike upright, Pearl put her hand right on Marina’s thigh, an open invitation, and Marina patted it in return but didn’t do anything past that.

When they got here, they said hello to Pearl’s father and trekked up to her room, where they changed into more comfortable clothes. Pearl dropped her jewelry on the dresser, and Marina must’ve grabbed the ring on her way out.

There was the sound of movement, and Pearl finally sat up. The muscles in her back were elastic now, and she looked up in time to see Marina hovering over her. She swung one leg over Pearl’s lounge chair and lowered herself slowly, right into Pearl’s lap.

“Not fair,” Marina repeated, grabbing Pearl’s face between her hands. For a second, Pearl forgot everything, and her world became this: Marina’s hands, warm like the weather, her large, green eyes, her eyebrows, relaxed in the middle of her forehead, and then even all of that left when Marina closed the distance between them.

Pearl’s back landed against the chair and she felt herself slide down as Marina pressed into her, eager for the salt on her lips and her tongue, and Pearl happily let her take control. She was too worn out from the sun, beaten into a relaxed pulp by the heat and the way it sliced clean through her body. She lost herself somewhere in there, especially when Marina’s hands moved up to cup the back of her head and she brushed against a sensitive spot behind Pearl’s ear. Pearl gasped and Marina grinned.

As Marina pulled back, Pearl felt something tickle her neck. It was definitely _not_ Marina’s hair because it was pulled into a tight top knot, and her eyes opened to see Marina’s face, eclipsing the sun, and she tracked down, down, past her flexed neck, where she saw her own ring, hanging from a chain in the center of Marina’s chest.

She reached up, fascinated, and touched it with the pad of her finger. “This is new,” she muttered, still dazed from the kiss and the heat.

Marina laughed. “Can’t wear it while I’m drawing. Gets in the way, but I wanted it.”

Pearl let her head fall back, suddenly breathless. “You didn’t take it off me. That’s also new.”

Marina shrugged. “We’re not a home.”

Pearl huffed out a laugh. “True. We really need to get you your own ring, though.”

Marina fell forward and nuzzled into Pearl’s neck. “But I like yours best.”

Her breath was hot on Pearl’s skin, hotter than the air, and she felt her whole body turn on. Suddenly, there was heat everywhere, from the tips of her toes to her crown, and she felt her legs come up, her knees bend, her toes curl, and her arms wrapped around Marina’s body.

“Still...” Pearl muttered, and then didn’t say anything else as Marina’s lips finally closed on her neck.

+++

The first time they went out for dinner after the first splatfest was also the last, at least on their own. They took their usual table in the diner, back in the corner, because Pearl preferred to have her back to the whole place so she could focus on Marina and her food, and Marina was the opposite—she liked to be able to see everyone as they came in, as they went, and got twitchy when she didn’t have a sightline to the door—and ordered randomly off the menu like they always did. It hearkened back to the old days, when Marina was so overwhelmed by all the choices and so unfamiliar with most of the menu that Pearl suggested they both pick something by closing their eyes, choosing a page, and pointing. “ _Let lady luck guide you_ ,” Pearl said back then, as she did every time they came back here, and Marina ended up with minestrone and an assortment of breads, which pleased her to no end.

This time, a plate of grilled cheese landed in front of Marina, and Pearl ended up with some kind of wrap. It took two seconds for them to swap plates, and, while Pearl spread ketchup on the top of the sandwich, Marina peeled apart the tortilla to peek inside.

“Gyro,” she reported, pleased. She pressed the tortilla back down, scooped it up, and took a big bite. “I _love_ olives,” she said around a mouthful of food.

Pearl scrunched her nose up and took a mighty chomp on her sandwich. The cheese was oozy and unidentifiable, just how she liked it.

All things considered, that night was quiet for a while. They didn’t consider themselves celebrities, at least not yet, with only a month of steady work and one splatfest under their belts, and hadn’t been recognized on the street yet—at least in a way that interrupted their day. Pearl had noticed a few phones pointed their way, but it was so lowkey that Marina never caught on, so she never mentioned it.

Marina had Pearl’s ring, and it was covered in tzatziki because wraps were never _not messy_ , especially because Marina wasn’t a patient eater. She scarfed everything down as fast as she could, and she didn’t seem to realize she was doing it. Often, she finished her food and then looked down, shocked that there wasn’t more. Pearl always offered her some of her fries.

The ring was covered in tzatziki and Pearl was mesmerized by that. She watched until Marina finally noticed and swiped at her hands with her paper napkin.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she pulled the ring free in order to polish it separately. Pearl watched her long fingers work the napkin inside the ring, around the outside, and then set it on the table. “I was _so_ hungry,” Marina continued, sheepish.

Pearl swallowed. Why the hell was she all bewildered by this? Marina was just _eating_...

(Answer: Pearl had it bad for Marina. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been like this, but she’d been aware of it since that night on Marina’s balcony, before their first broadcast, when she promised Marina that she would never leave her side. It created mashed potatoes out of her insides, and she found herself watching the strangest things, like tzatziki running down Marina’s finger, or the way she pushed her hair behind her ear, or how she bit her lip when she was nervous.)

Marina was biting her lip now, and she looked down at her plate. “This is nice,” she said, and pushed the ring across the table toward Pearl. “I missed spending time with you like this. We’ve been so busy since we started the news and stuff... I...”

Pearl pushed the ring back. “Keep it,” she said, and popped a fry into her mouth. “You like it way more than me.”

Marina looked at it for a second before using one finger to slide it back. “No, it’s yours. I won’t like it as much if it’s not.”

Pearl squinted at her. “But you’re always stealing it... I have a ton like it.” Pearl shoved it across again. “It’s yours.”

“No.” Marina grabbed it and reached forward, grasped Pearl’s hand as it made for another fry. She held Pearl’s hand up, palm and fingers splayed toward her, and slid the ring back into its place on Pearl’s pointer finger.

“But...”

Marina smiled at her, that special smile that she only seemed to reserve for Pearl, the one that made her insides squish and mash. “You’re cute when you’re confused.” She let out a small chuckle.

Pearl felt her eyebrows furrow. “I’m _always_ cute.”

Marina laughed again, this time louder, drawing the attention of the table over. There was a small gasp as the children there seemed to recognize them, but Pearl didn’t notice, not right away. Instead, she could only watch as Marina leaned her elbow into the table and put her chin in her hand. “You are—”

A flash went off, then another, and another, and suddenly there were children blinking up at them, holding napkins and pens, parents pointing phone cameras at them, and Marina sent Pearl a sheepish glance and Pearl scowled.

She never found out what Marina was going to say, and neither one of them got to finish their food. 

+++

Before every splatfest, they stood facing each other with their heads bowed, hands clasped between them. It wasn’t so much praying as taking a small moment to center themselves, to breathe, to focus, to listen to the pulse of the crowd, to picture the kids, readying their weapons, pulling on their gear, tugging their splatfest shirts straight and adjusting their wristbands, to gather the energy they needed to get to their first break, two hours from now. They were supposed to entertain the crowd until then, with music, dancing, chatter.

There was no such thing as nervousness now, months into this, and this whole thing was routine now—jump on stage, greet the crowd, announce the stages, launch into Color Pulse, then let the energy take them. Pearl’s body and voice were sufficiently stretched, and Marina spent the last thirty minutes doing vocal warmups. The soundcheck was done, the stage was clear and structurally sound, and the lights were set. All that was left was them, standing close, hands wound together, as they breathed in and out together, synching their individual rhythms into one shared one.

If you asked Pearl years from now, when they were three years married and riding high on their fifth studio album, she would tell you that these moments were her absolute favorites. She loved the feel of Marina’s hands in hers, how steady her grip was, how strong her fingers were, how still her breathing was when she was focused, how she became this mountain that could weather any storm. She would say that Mount Nantai lived in Marina just as much as they lived in its shadow. She would say that Marina had magma in her, just like that volcano, and it hardened her, built her up, as it slowly powered her from the inside out. She would say that sometimes she peeked up at Marina as they breathed together, and she swore she could see into the future, could see Marina’s bowed head, her smile, her intent gaze, by her side all the way into that great distant future.

It excited her, pumped her up, and eventually she started bouncing on her heels. This was Marina’s cue to look up, to smile, to lick her lips and reach forward, grab Pearl’s face between her palms, and blaze one strong, desperate kiss on her forehead—then, after that fateful day at Wahoo World, she seared it to Pearl’s lips instead, drawing from her breath, pushing some of that mountainous strength back into Pearl’s small body.

With fire on her lips and pulse pumping from the noise of the crowd, Pearl swore she could topple buildings with the force of her voice alone. All Marina had to do was ask, and she would do it.

They parted, stepped back, hands lingering, sliding apart at the last moment, and Marina’s bit her lip as she pulled past the base of Pearl’s finger, where one single ring was there, waiting to be taken. It was a pre-splatfest ritual now—Pearl wore the ring, Marina took it, strung it up on her chain, shoved it into her top, where it nestled against one of her hearts, and Pearl got it back with a _plink_ as Marina dropped it back into the dish as they stumbled, exhausted, into bed at close to five in the morning.

“Break a leg, Rina,” Pearl said as she felt the ring pass over her nail.

“You first,” Marina shot back as she threaded the ring through the chain and slipped it over her neck. It was thin, so no one would see it from far away, but this close, Pearl could see every interlocking link.

Pearl laughed. This was ritual now: Marina pretended she didn’t understand the idiom and Pearl laughed. Sometimes, she tried to explain it again, but just now, she was too gob smacked by the sight of Marina holding the ring up, watching it catch the light. She really was this lucky, huh?

“Count on it,” Pearl said, and turned toward the stage. “I’ll fall right off the stage one of these days.”

Marina stepped up next to her. “And I’ll be there to catch you. Always.” She tucked the chain deep into her top and grabbed Pearl’s hand, tight, with the force of the earth under their feet.

+++

Back in the present, Pearl follows Marina down the sidewalk, heading away from the diner and toward the beach. Marina wants to see the sunrise, and then they’ll head back to the studio, where Pearl will pass out on the couch and Marina will finish mixing their newest single. It’s only the first pass so it’ll go through changes in the coming weeks, but Pearl’s pretty happy with it, even if Marina keeps furrowing her brow in that way that means that she’s thinking hard about something. She seemed distracted all night, kept glancing at Pearl as she recorded her half of the lyrics, leaning with her mouth almost touching the pop filter. At the time, Pearl thought it was because she wasn’t doing it right—Marina was a perfectionist when it came to music—but now she’s not so sure.

Marina is focusing on her feet, hands in front of her, and she’s spinning Pearl’s ring around and around, and Pearl watches her wrist rotate as they walk.

“You okay?” Pearl asks. She’s _so_ tired, but also satisfied—the song is good, she’s full of scrambled eggs, and Marina is by her side. They don’t have work today because it’s the weekend, and she’s about to see the sunrise for the first time in years. The only thing cramping her style is Marina’s aura.

“Huh?” Marina separates her hands with visible effort and forces them down by her sides. “Oh, I’m fine. Just... Excited. For the sunrise,” she tacks on.

Pearl smiles then, feels some of her sleepiness melt away when Marina turns to smile back. “Hell yeah! It’s gonna be beautiful over the water. Everything is _super_ green.”

Marina bites her lip and looks back down at her feet.

The walk is quiet after that, and they make it to the beach with time to spare. This was an impromptu trip after an impromptu breakfast. They didn’t intend to stay up all night recording, but here they are, sleep-deprived but undeniably alive. Every breath feels crisp this morning, and Pearl swears she can feel every photon from the streetlights, can hear every rock crunch under the tires of every car that passes, can see every ripple of the vast, dark ocean before them. The stars aren’t visible here in the city, but Marina knows their approximate locations so she points them out, using Venus as a guide, and Pearl leans close, feels a tentacle wrap around her shoulder, and that’s comforting, relaxing. She follows Marina’s long arm as she traces the sky, tries to imagine the collection of stars, but finds herself far too distracted by the constellations of freckles Marina has on her arm.

She’s not sure when she sees it, but Marina has a second ring on. This one is on her left pinky and Pearl can’t see more than that, because Marina keeps moving, but it’s definitely not Pearl’s.

Pearl is speechless for the first time in who knows how long. Something about that feels important, feels earth-shattering, but she can’t make sense of it this early in the morning when she’s running on vapors and diner eggs. All she can do is watch, fascinated, as Marina motions her hand around as she points; then, when she runs out of constellations, Pearl loses track of the conversation, makes small grunts in response, and just stares as Marina waves her hand, and can’t get her head around it.

She needs to see it, but she doesn’t want to be obvious about it. She needs to play the game, get it off her finger while she’s distracted...

Eventually, Pearl plops down into the sand because she really is tired, and then grabs Marina’s hand to pull her down with her. Marina goes willingly, though not without complaining about the sand in her clothes, and while she’s going down, Pearl wraps her fingers around the ring and tugs, slides it all the way off in one smooth motion. Marina doesn’t react, just lands next to Pearl. Her tentacle goes back to its place.

Pearl can’t see the ring here in the dark, so she just pulls the Marina Special and slides it onto any finger it’ll fit on—left middle is a little snug, but it works. Then, she tries to focus on what Marina’s saying, hears something about _asparagus_ and _oven_ , and then is distracted again. The pads of her fingers pass over the ring and the texture is smooth, with only a couple bumps for stones.

She can’t figure more than that, not with Marina watching her, talking to her, and the sun not yet risen, so she just runs her fingers over it, trying to divine its secrets. Eventually, she starts to twist it.

The minutes pass, and eventually Pearl feels herself begin to lull. Marina’s voice is a pleasant buzzing sound and the world is warm; the wave noise doesn’t help. She slumps into Marina’s side.

“Psst, hey Pearlie...” Marina’s voice wakes her, and she blinks open, eyes bleary, to a world that’s bright yellow and green. Marina’s arm is wrapped around her shoulder, holding her up, and she feels a hand squeeze her bicep. “C’mon, you’re missing it.”

Pearl groans, but it’s more for show than anything, and reaches up to rub her eyes. The new ring cuts strange into her skin.

Marina stands, dusts off her pants, and reaches down to help Pearl up. “Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead.”

Her finger slides across the ring. Pearl feels it and she knows Marina feels it. For a second, Pearl is energized as Marina finally becomes wise to her small little trick, her echo, but Marina doesn’t react, just tugs Pearl to her feet and points her to the east.

The sunrise is beautiful, just like she knew it would be, but Pearl can’t focus on it for long. Marina is a strong presence next to her, stretching herself tall, up on her toes, shifting every now and then in the sand, from foot to foot, and, just there, Pearl can see her stomach peeking out from the hem of her shit. It awakens something in her, and she spins the ring again.

“How do you like my new ring?” Marina asks when the sun finally pokes its crown over the horizon.

“You _did_ notice,” Pearl accuses. “Making me all anxious for no reason.”

Marina smiles, a quiet, small thing, and turns to Pearl. She’s biting her lip again and Pearl barely has time to compute that before Marina grabs her hand and looks down at the ring.

“It looks good on you,” she mutters, and wraps her long fingers around it. “But you’re wearing it on the wrong finger.”

At first, Pearl doesn’t get it, but then Marina pulls it free and deftly slides it onto a different digit—Pearl’s left ring finger.

All sound sucks inward, and suddenly all Pearl can hear is the echoing chambers of her own ears. It still sounds like the ocean, a whooshing buzzing that gets louder and louder, and Pearl can feel her eyes, knows they’re open, even if she can’t compute what she’s seeing.

Her eyes are the size of the rising sun, and Marina is looking at her with an expression that reminds her of the dark ocean—unsure and nervous and fidgety—as she waits for Pearl to react. Pearl realizes that she’s staring, caught by this moment, speechless for the second time today, and she forces herself to swallow.

“Are you...” Her mouth is dry and gummy.

“I always take your rings... It’s about time you took mine.” Marina closes her hands around Pearl’s.

The tactile sensation of that wakes Pearl from the inside out. Suddenly, she can feel the sand again, and the sea spray, and can hear the waves and her own breathing. She looks at Marina and breathes out slowly.

“Well, fuck,” she says, exciting a laugh from Marina, “are you for real? Because like, you _know_ I’m down—”

Marina lets out a little, crazed laugh. “Let me _ask_ first, Pearl.”

“Oh shit. Right.”

Marina laughs again, looks down at their hands, and takes a deep breath.

She drops to one knee and stares up at Pearl with those large, green eyes. Pearl can’t breathe for a second.

Marina spins the ring around her finger. “Right where it belongs...” She grins then, almost impish, and winks. “Pearl, I like you more than I should...”

Pearl throws her head back and laughs.

+++

Six months after Pearl’s epiphany on the balcony, and two years before Marina will bring Pearl to the beach, Pearl ran through Wahoo World, dragging Marina behind her. Marina’s hand was warm in hers, like it will be in two years, and Pearl was trying very hard not to focus on how well her fingers fit between Marina’s. Marina’s hands were so much bigger, and they encompassed Pearl’s almost entirely, which just felt _right_ , more right than anything else in the world in that moment. Marina was easily keeping pace with her long legs, and Pearl could just hear her breath, slightly elevated as they dodged around people.

It was Pearl’s opinion that if they moved fast enough, no one would recognize them. Marina maintained that that didn’t make any sense, but they were flying through the park, having ditched their park-sanctioned guide a while back. (“For your safety,” the middle-aged woman at customer relations told them. “All celebrities are given a guide.”) Pearl didn’t like to be leashed to anyone, least of all some poor teen who clearly was sick of walking rich and famous (spoiled) people through this theme park.

Besides, Pearl could handle herself, and Marina was a ripped badass, and it wasn’t like were going to get lost. They spent a lot of time here at Wahoo World back in the day, when they were still up and comers, riding the roller coaster and death drop more times than Pearl could count, snacking on fried food, riffling through the expensive merchandise and daring each other to take a blind guess at the price of novelty shot glasses, t-shirts, keychains, hats; Pearl won Marina a stuffed guppy at a ring toss booth once. This was like a second home in a lot of ways.

Pearl pulled to a stop in front of the roller coaster and Marina followed her lead, drawing to a halt with more control than Pearl will ever possess. Marina shaded her face and looked up, all the way at the top of the drop.

She didn’t let go of Pearl’s hand.

“We meet again,” Marina said, serious, calm. “It’s been a while, old friend.”

It had. They hadn’t been back here since they landed the news gig, over six months ago. Too busy, and for a while there Marina didn’t want a repeat of the diner incident, where they ended up with a line for autographs so long it snaked out the door and Pearl ended up crankily demanding that everyone leave them alone. But then, Pearl’s birthday drew closer and she started making noises about roller coasters and Marina gave in. Pearl did her best to assure Marina that everything would be okay, and, even if Marina didn’t believe her, she did trust her, so here they were, gazing up at their favorite roller coaster, still holding hands.

And that was weird, but Pearl didn’t want to read into it. She’d been crushing on Marina _hard_ for the last six months, and she was convinced that Marina had noticed by now. She kept looking at her sidelong, with those affectionate creases in the corners of her eyes that Pearl used to dream about, and doing things like this, like hand holding and sideways hugs on Marina’s small loveseat that turned into sleepy cuddles and all the _watching_ , all the _looking_...

Pearl tried not to read into it, mostly because she felt like if she did she was setting herself up for a massive disappointment. After all, that was how Marina _was_... She was affectionate and observant and attentive. She watched everything with a close, keen eye, and knew how to read Pearl like her favorite manga. There was no hiding from her, so she _had_ to know, and she hadn’t said anything, so she definitely didn’t feel the same way.

But she encouraged it, or tried to meet Pearl at a place where she could handle it, and that was _sweet_ and also a little _cruel_. She wished that Marina would just let her down so she could move on.

“C’mon Pearlie!” Marina said, and suddenly she was the one pulling Pearl. They weaved through the switchbacks and Marina refused to let go of Pearl’s hand.

It was in the middle of the day on a Tuesday during the school year, so the park was practically empty. They didn’t have to waite long, didn’t see another person for a good five minutes, and had their own car on the coaster. They piled into the front row, and only then did Marina let go of her hand so she could pull down the restraint.

She took Pearl’s ring with her.

After they got off, Pearl was windswept and full of adrenaline, so when Marina yanked her out of her seat and said, “Let’s _go again_!” Pearl was already running toward the exit. They pounded back through the switchbacks and launched themselves into the back row this time, still trying to figure out if it was faster or not. Marina maintained that it was, but Pearl _swore_ that the front was faster.

“It only feels faster,” Marina recited, like she always did, as they climbed the lift hill, “because of the wind in your face.”

“Isn’t that what matters?” Pearl demanded, voice rising to be heard over the clack of the track. “How it _feels_?”

Marina shook her head but couldn’t respond because they were cresting the hill now. They could see the city, all the buildings, and Deca Tower. Marina reached over and grabbed Pearl’s hand tight in hers.

Three more trips on the coaster and Marina officially needed a break. “I need a drink,” she wheezed as they emerged back into the park proper. “My head is spinning.”

“Wimp,” Pearl teased, but turned to go buy her something from a stand nearby. Marina stuck her tongue out after her and began to look for a bench.

When Pearl returned, holding two lemonades, it was to Marina sitting on the edge of the bench, ramrod, leg bouncing. Not a good sign.

“Pearl!” she cried when she saw her, and Pearl picked up the speed a bit. “I lost it!”

“Lost what?”

“Your ring!”

Pearl laughed once, incredulous, not quite understanding the big, worried reaction. “Okay?” She forced the paper cup into Marina’s hand. “Calm down.”

“But—!”

“Take a drink, Mar. It’s not a big deal.”

Marina clearly didn’t want to, but she listened because she knew that Pearl could be the most stubborn person in the world when she wanted to. After three big gulps, she leveled a sad look at the ground. “I’m sorry Pearl... I think I lost it on the coaster.”

Pearl waved her hand. “It’s just one ring. No big deal. I got tons like it at home.”

“But...” Marina sniffled, which caused every red alert to go off in Pearl’s brain. “That’s the one I always...”

She couldn’t seem to finish. Pearl felt a pang go through her chest, because Marina was right. She’d been wearing that ring every day for the past two and a half years because it was the one Marina loved the most, the one she _always_ slid off Pearl’s finger to play with. It wasn’t just some ring. It was _their_ ring.

It was Pearl’s turn to look at her feet. “I— Reena, does it mean that much to you?”

Marina sent her a look that Pearl couldn’t read. “Of course it does...” She scooted closer to Pearl, close enough that their thighs were touching. “It’s— When I have it, I feel... _connected_ to you. You let me take it, so it’s like you’re giving me a piece of you.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s silly, but—”

“No.” Pearl grabbed Marina’s hand where it rested on her thigh. “It’s not silly. It’s... That’s sweet. You— You care about me that much...”

Marina let out a small laugh. “Pearlie, I care about you... _a lot_.” She took a deep breath, and then let it out, shaky. “I care about you... more than I should, probably.”

Pearl froze, and something winked at her from path, kicked by a random kid. It flashed as it flew through the air, and Pearl watched it land in slow motion. She couldn’t take her eyes off it, but she also couldn’t stand, couldn’t move, because Marina was holding tight to her hand now, looking at her with the most raw, vulnerable expression Pearl had ever seen, and she was still trying to chew through that... _More than I should, probably..._

“Marina... You... Uhhh?”

Marina wrapped her arm around Pearl’s shoulders and pulled her in close. Pearl felt the ghost of Marina’s lips on the crown of her head. “I like you, Pearl... I— I think I’m... I think I’m in... I _love_ —”

Pearl shot up. It was a knee jerk reaction, but she couldn’t stop it. Marina’s expression flickered with hurt, but she schooled it quickly and didn’t react past that. Pearl rocketed forward, suddenly out of control, and only stopped when she saw the ring, right where it had been kicked. She bent down to grab it, and as she did, everything finally caught up with her, slowed down, and she felt something _twist click_ in her brain. Marina... She just—

Marina just almost said she was in love with Pearl.

The ring was in perfect condition, even after all these years, even after being kicked, after bouncing and rolling. Pearl used the hem of her shirt to buff it, and turned slowly back toward Marina, who was watching her like a woman condemned, like Pearl held her whole future, all of her happiness, in her hands.

Everything coalesced. There was Marina, out on a limb, and there was Pearl, fascinated by the ring, by its unmarked surface. It was that easy, huh? A perfect little relationship, developing right into love without a single hitch. Pearl breathed out and laughed, because she couldn’t believe it.

(Months later, she will be confronted by the difficult things—the Deepsea Metro, Agent Eight, Marina looking at her like she deserved all the hatred Pearl could lobby at her, the world almost ending, finally understanding what kind of hell Marina left, the brainwashing—but it won’t phase her, not when Marina will need her. She will press her ring into Marina’s palm and Marina will cry, unable to form words in Inkling anymore, and Pearl will hold her close and promise to never let go. She will promise to listen, to learn, to make up for lost time, to understand Marina’s home, and her past. She will promise to accept everything, and to never leave, like she always has.)

She padded back to Marina, body light. Everything was clear now. Everything was perfect. All she had to do was fix it for Marina.

“Found it,” she said, and held the ring up. Marina’s expression cleared from one of guilt to one of relief for a single second before reverting. “Hand?” Pearl held her palm out, and Marina tentatively placed hers between her fingers.

Marina stared up at Pearl with those large, green eyes. Pearl couldn’t breathe for a second.

She slid the ring onto Marina’s finger and spun it once. “Right where it needs to be...” She took a deep breath. “Reena... I like you too... More than I should, probably.”

Marina smiled like sunrise, dawning slowly as she computed that, and grabbed tight to Pearl’s hands.

+++

After Pearl says yes, they lie in the sand. The kiss is sloppy because they’re exhausted, but it’s the sweetest thing Pearl’s ever tasted. She feels Marina’s hands on her sides, just under her shirt, otherwise chaste, and that sets her on fire. She’s breathless with the kiss, breathless with the proposal, breathless with everything that’s brought them here, and she wants to bottle this moment, put it away for later when she’ll desperately need this lighter-than-air feeling.

Marina smiles into the kiss and her tongue pokes out between her lips, but neither one of them go further. Pearl can feel Marina’s magma, her burning strength, where her hands meet Pearl’s skin, and that ignites her, invigorates her. Soon, she’ll be marrying this incredible woman and they’ll forge into that wide future together, like they always promised each other.

(After they left Wahoo World and got back to Marina’s, they sat on her small loveseat and looked at each other, knees pulled into their chests, feet touching. They talked like they were breathless with it, like the stories of their separate pining were too much, like they just needed to get it out into the air so they could finally look at it all and decide what they were going to do. Pearl desperately wanted to memorize the look on Marina’s face as she listened to Pearl explain when she realized she was falling, way back on her balcony. She wanted to remember that delighted, ecstatic expression for the rest of her life.

“Does this mean I can get you your own ring?” Pearl asked, after the stories were over and they decided to give this a try, trying the break the tension. She pointed at Marina’s pinky, where her ring hadn’t moved since Pearl slipped it back on.

Marina bit her lip. “No, I don’t think so.”)

Pearl ends up with her head on Marina’s chest, listening to the _th-th-th-thud_ of Marina’s hearts. They’re still in the sand, breathless, kissed out, and the sun has officially risen. Pearl can feel the rays on the back of her neck and her back, even through her shirt.

“Does this mean I can finally get you your own ring?” she asks as she traces small patterns in the fabric of Marina’s tank top.

Marina laughs, causing Pearl’s head to vibrate slightly. “Yes, of course, but only one.” Her hand comes up to scratch idly on Pearl’s back, sending pleasant fuzzies up into the base of her head.

“Mm,” Pearl hums, distracted. “Good.”

“I’m still gonna take yours though.”

Pearl laughs and buries her face in Marina’s shirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow look, I CAN write in past tense!
> 
> Check me out on Twitter if that's your neck of the woods: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)!
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! <3


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